Gillyflowers
by TeresaDelay
Summary: Series of connected one-shots about Rosto and Beka.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Tamora Pierce

Set Immediately after Bloodhound.

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_She's coming home today_. Rosto smiled despite himself, happy at the idea of seeing her even if he was more than a little afraid of what he would learn when she returned. He paused at the flower stall as he walked through the market. Should he get her flowers? He left her flowers all the time. It was one of the few things he knew she loved and that she wouldn't return. But what if she was getting flowers from someone else now? That _Dale_ was supposed to be a heartbreaker, but it was possible he'd really fallen for Beka. Who wouldn't? He'd kill the boy if he had hurt her. He'd also kill the boy if he was still with her. The only way the boy would survive is if Beka had decided she was through with him. That would be best. His man said Dale had visited her but once in the hospital and only briefly. Chances were things were over, so he asked for the usual. The woman nodded and pulled out a bouquet of red gillyweed flowers. Rosto handed her some coins and walked purposefully back to their boarding house. He left the bouquet outside her door, then walked across the street to the Dancing Dove.

As he walked in, he waved to the men who were putting the finishing touches on it. In truth, he could have moved in weeks ago, but he was dragging it out, hoping to get her to agree to move in as well. He knew it probably wouldn't happen, but he wanted a definitive no before he gave up on the reassurance of always knowing when she came back at the end of her shift, when she was sleeping safely a floor below him, and that he could be there within an instance if one of her enemies or his came to take her away.

He walked up to the second floor to where Aniki's room would be. He opened up the shutters on her front window and dragged a chair over, sitting down and looking out at the busy street. Eventually, through the mass of rushers, doxies and their targets, she came down the street. Eskren was carrying one of her trunks, and she had another. She looked like she was alright, though he thought he could detect a slight limp. Her head was high as ever, and he watched her see the young scamp of a purse snatcher dip his fingers into a heavy purse and decide not to pursue him. It was unlike her to let even a minor thieving go with no punishment, but she tended to be easier on the little one's and he could see the weariness on her face; his lass clearly needed and wanted rest in her own bed. She disappeared into the house, then reappeared before her window a few mom3n5w later. She chatted with Eskren for a bit, holding his flowers under her arm as though they meant nothing. Eskren left, and as soon as the door was firmly closed, she moved towards the window and buried her face in the flowers. He smiled. Yes, he still had a chance with her. And that's all that mattered. He closed the shutters and began whistling, strolling out of the Dove casually, a bounce in his step for the first time since she had left for her Port Caynn.

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So, I finally managed to read Bloodhound, and immediately had to write this. It's silly, I know. I'm fairly ambivalent as to whether I leave it as is or make it a series of slightly connected one shots about B/R and how I think they get together. Don't worry I'll finish my other story/write the promised sequel....I just had to finish reading Bloodhound first....and write this. Review please! Let me know if you are interested in more.


	2. Chapter 2

She was stung he could tell. She refused to talk about what had occurred between she and Dale with him, and Aniki and Kara wouldn't break her confidence, but he'd spent much of his time since he'd met her learning to puzzle out her feelings on his own. Her pride was certainly hurt, and she did seem somewhat sad at the lost, but he'd hardly call her broken-hearted. Even his ghost-eyed girl wouldn't have been able to hide it if she was really hurting, and in truth he would knew that the girls would have taken out their own revenge if the boy had done any real damage to her. He was wary though, holding back on stealing kisses from her as he so longed to do.

It was a tricky business, getting a kiss from her. She'd gotten faster, and he had to move quick in order to plant a kiss and dodge out of the way of her answering punch. He did like the challenge of it, but he wished just once she'd let him kiss her for more than just a moment, that she'd let him hold her close. He mulled over his options as he bought her gillyflowers. He was spending his last night at the inn before moving into the Dancing Dove that night, and Beka still hadn't agreed to move in. He'd cajoled and argued with her, as had Aniki and Kara, but to no avail. Even the knowledge that Eskren was moving in as well hadn't changed her mind.

He walked over to the inn and hopped up the stairs. He was about to leave the flowers outside her door like he always did, when on impulse he knocked on her door. She opened it, wearing a pretty blue dress he hadn't seen before.

"These are for you," he said, holding out the flowers and leaning casually in her doorway.

Surprisingly, she just gave him a little smile and took them. "Thank you," she said softly.

He looked her over. "Are you going to see your family?" he asked.

"Just got back."

Rosto raised an eyebrow. "It's not even midday. That's shorter than you normally visit."

Beka just shrugged and looked down, playing with the flowers gently.

"What happened?"

"It's just—I just," Beka stuttered, then suddenly she exploded, practically yelling. "Who does she think she is?! How can she sit there and turn her nose up at me? Her own sister. I looked after her for years, and now she looks at me like I'm trash. Who keeps her safe? Dogs do, that's who. And she acts like scrimping and bowing and holding trains and her pretty looks and perfectly clean dresses makes her better then me. She makes me so angry, and she's trying to turn the younger one's against me."

Rosto waited after she'd finished, letting her wipe the angry tears off her own cheeks before he reached out and pushed a piece of hair that had fallen out of its pins behind her ear and said, "You are worth a hundred of her, and she knows it. You're independent in a way she will never be and live in a world far wider then hers, and she resents you for it because it draws attention to the smallness of her world. She'll learn to accept the differences between you. Just give her time."

Beka looked at him for a long moment, before suddenly throwing her arms around his neck, smacking in the face with the flowers in the process. She buried her face in his neck for one excruciatingly wonderful moment as his shocked brain finally managed to screech at his arms loud enough that they obeyed and wrapped themselves around her waist.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "I pray to the Goddess that you are right."

She let him hold her a few more minutes before she let go off his neck, leaving him to reluctantly relinquish his grip.

"Move into the Dove," he said quietly. "Please."

"Why does it matter? I'll only be across the way."

"It won't be the same, and you know it. Besides, who will do all the mending? Eskren is moving in, and every one knows you're as straight a dog as they come."

Beka shook her head.

"Why? Just tell me why."

Beka sighed. "It's not a good idea. I'll just be across the way, Rosto. You can all still bring me your mending."

"And what if that's too far for me or one of the other's to hear Achoo barking when you're getting that daft head of yours beaten in?" His light tone as he uttered the words didn't match the dark expression on his face.

Beka looked down. "So that's why you got so insistent about it."

"Beka, it's not just your Dog's work that could get you killed. People know we are friends. They know they can hurt me through you. Please, just move into the Dove."

She looked down at the flowers, then said, "I'll think about it."

Rosto blew his breath out in frustration, tempted to stomp his foot like a toddler in a tantrum. "Don't think about it you stupid gixie, just do it. Even Goodwin said it's different now that we've moved the court out here. You have yet to even give me a good reason not to."

"I don't need to give my sister another reason to think I'm dirt," she finally said, looking at the ground.

He sighed. "Lass, when you let her judgment of you change you and make your decisions she and that good for nothing mistress of hers win."

"She's my sister, Rosto. I love her. I won't give up my work for her, but I don't have to make her think I'm not just a Dog, but a dirty, rotten mutt who messes about with rats.," she said, sounding defeated and looking down at the ground.

Rosto frowned and took her chin between his fingers, forcing her too look up at him. "You're no mutt, and you know it. You're the best Bloodhound of the lot."

He held her gaze for a long while, before moving his hand to her hip and stepping close to her. Instead of stealing a kiss from her, he moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him if she wished to, but she didn't. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. The kiss deepened, and Rosto was completely lost in it, when suddenly Beka's fist sank deep into his stomach and the breath swooshed out of him.

"I warned you, Rosto the Piper," Beka said, stepping back as Rosto tried not to double over. Her voice was teasing though, and Rosto couldn't help but smile when he saw that her eyes were crinkled in fun.

He stood up straight. "Hardly even hurt. Don't they teach you how to punch properly?" He winked at her and walked away, but not before he heard her quiet, "Thank you again."

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I think I'll just put a couple of these somewhat connected one-shots up that explains how I think they might finally get together.


	3. Chapter 3

Barking filled his dreams, making him sit up in his bed with a gasp.

"Rosto?" the pretty blond sleeping next to him asked. What was her name? Dulia? Desla?

"Hush," he said sternly, cocking an ear and trying to push away the memory of her bloodied and broken. He strained his ears, but heard nothing. Achoo's barks had just been a dream.

He lay back down, his heart still beating fast, and the blond curled into him, stroking him softly and kissing his neck. He felt as though all his limbs were buzzing, and he couldn't get the echo of that infernal noise out of his head. Finally, he tossed the sheet aside, making the girl squeak with indignation. He tugged clothes on quickly, sliding his daggers on and pulling on his softest pairs of boots.

"Where are you going?" she whined.

"Nowhere that concerns you," he replied, making a mental note not to sleep with her again. She was clearly a clinger, and he had no interest in that sort of woman.

"Are you coming back?" She pouted and let the sheet she clutched fall, exposing her curves.

"I don't know. I suggest you make your way home when dawn comes." He _hated_ pouting. He had to stop sleeping with annoying women every time Beka exasperated him. Once upon a time, he would have found the pout enticing, and her soft curves irresistible, but not anymore.

He strode out the doorway and padded down the stairs and out of the Dancing Dove. He crossed the street quickly to his old home, circled round back and climbed up on to the roof. He then dropped himself carefully to the ledge of his old room, and then hopped down one ledge further to her room. The window was open wide, letting in the night breeze, and he silently slid his legs in, balancing on the sill.

She was breathing, deeply and evenly, one arm tossed over her face, and her blankets thrown to the side and wrapped around her legs. Pounce opened his purple eyes and blinked, and Rosto hoped the constellation wouldn't tattle on him.

Without thinking, he slid all the way into the room and padded silently over to her bed. He paused to pet Achoo on the head reassuringly then crouched down next to her. He felt her breath across his face and reached out to just barely touch his fingers to her cheek. The tension in him finally released as he felt her warm against his fingers. She'd been so cold when he'd held her that day.

He stood up and was half-out the went when she said, "What are you doing here, Rosto?"

He started, tempted to just flee through the window, but stayed and turned towards her. She repeated her question, and he scrambled around for a teasing light-hearted answer like he usually gave her, but finally he just said, "I needed to know you were safe."

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, looping her arms around her legs. She was silent for a long moment, leaving Rosto to wonder how angry she was. To his surprise, her voice was understanding when she spoke. "It was a year ago this morning."

"I know," he replied instantly. Impulsively, he added, "I'm sorry about this morning. I shouldn't have picked a fight with you about still living here, but I hate that you don't live in the same building as us, and today especially—"

"I know, Rosto," she said softly, interrupting him. He wished he could see her face, thrown off by her unusual response to him.

He didn't know what to say, letting the awkward silence fill the room. Though he felt distinctly uneasy, the sound of her breath still continued to sooth him, and he took a small joy in listening to it. At last she broke the silence. "I'm not going anywhere, Rosto. Not if I have anything to do with it, and not if you do either, and I think between the two of us, I'll be here to fight with you a long time."

Rosto chuckled softly. "Sometimes, I just need to make sure is all."

"Nightmares?"

Rosto hesitated, unwilling to show weakness, even to her.

""Everyone has them, Rosto. There's not shame in it."

"Yes," he finally replied.

"I don't dream about that. I dream about other things, but not that. Maybe because I can't remember it."

"What do you dream about?"

"This and that. The sewers with Pearl. Rolond. The fight you had with Krell." He barely heard the last thing she said as she lowered her voice to a whisper. But he caught the words, and the emotion behind them. He hopped down from the ledge and walked across the small room to sit on her bed. He reached a hand out and stoked her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere either," he said, cursing himself silently for not realizing why she'd been so prickly the last few days. Why she'd picked a fight with him at every turn, and blown up at him this morning when he'd pushed her about moving. She released her hold on her legs and wrapped her arms around him, burying his face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her against him.

His fight with Krell four days ago had been closer than most. Krell had drawn blood, and Beka had been there, collecting for the happy bag. Now that he thought about it, he realized she had never seen him fight a contender for his throne before. In truth, she fought fights that close to the death more frequently then he, but he knew how hard it was to realize that when you were watching them from the outside. He'd watched from the rooftops now and then as she took down Rats, and his stomach had flipped over with each blow they had tossed her direction, even though rationally he knew she was a good enough fighter to take care of any of them.

He kissed her temple gently, pushing his luck and easing further on to the bed. Knowing she wouldn't allow the moment to last much longer, he said teasingly, "I had no idea you dreamed about me, sweetheart."

Rather than snap at him like he expected, she tightened her grip on his neck with one hand and snaked her other hand under his shirt. She moved her palm up over his hip bone, making his heartbeat radically. When she reached the stitches on his side, she slid gentle fingertips along them.

"See, the healer patched me up just fine," he whispered in her ear.

He felt her nod against him and then she drew away. "How long did your dreams last?" she asked quietly.

"After that morning?" When she nodded, he shrugged. "It was really bad until," he hesitated, knowing how she felt about what he'd done, but finally continued, "Until I took care of the issue, and then it was bad for a week or so, and then it was mostly fine. Just now and then. Usually when I hadn't seen you for awhile, or you'd done something else particularly foolhardy. This was the first really bad one I'd had since before the problems were disposed of."

Surprising him again, she didn't berate him for having the men who'd attacked her killed. Instead, she laid her head back against his chest. "I hope mine stop soon," she said quietly, and he knew what the words cost her to admit.

He deliberated with himself for a moment before sliding slowly down the length of the bed, until he was lying down with his chest propped up on her pillows. She didn't protest, just adjuster her head's position on his chest and pulled the blankets up over them both.

"This don't mean anything, Piper," she growled suddenly. "Don't get any ideas."

He chuckled softly, reaching up and stroking her hair. "I know, Beka. Believe me, I know."

He felt her head get heavy against his chest, and he soon followed her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

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What do you think? Believable? Review and tell me please! I love these two. I swear if TP doesn't get them together at least briefly in the third one I'm going to be very, very angry......slash write a lot of AU fanfiction live every other Rosto/Beka fan.


	4. Chapter 4

Flowers weren't going to fix this. Jecifer was too high up in his organization. Becca would be sure to take her anger out on him, and Rosto couldn't really blame her. He knew Jecifer was a loose canon when drunk, but the man was good at controlling the gambling. Better than any he'd seen. So, he got a little loose with his fists when he had a few in him. How was Rosto to know that Tunstall would end up at the receiving end? It wouldn't matter how red they were, she'd still toss the gillyflowers back at him.

Rosto cursed as he paced his room. They'd gotten so close. There'd been a shift between them. He could feel it. And now Tunstall was in the infirmary with a bashed head thanks to one of his men. His stomach clenched, and to his surprise he realized he was afraid. He was afraid of her. Perhaps it was the same fear as always, the fear of losing her.

He kept his eyes peeled on the window until he saw her walking up the lane. That meant Tunstall was home and had passed through the worst at least. He'd have heard if he hadn't made it. Lady Sabine was in Corus still. No doubt she was caring for him and had sent Beka home to her bed.

As he watched her walk into her house across the lane, he debated internally with himself. Window or front door? Chances were she wouldn't let him if he tried the door. He moved quickly once he'd decided, dropping in through her window only moments later.

Her back was turned to him, but he knew she'd heard him enter the room.

"Beka," he said hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

Her shoulders stiffened. "Go away, Rosto," she replied. "Now."

"Beka, please."

"Please what, Rosto," Beka demanded, her anger shadowed by the tears he could hear on her voice. "I knew all along what you and your men were like. Rushers are rushers. Guards are guards. And you've got blood on your hands no matter what you say."

His chest tightened as he realized how far back this had taken him. She'd trusted him, and now they were back to rushers are rushers and guards are guards. He was stuck either way. She wouldn't want him to kill Jecifer for him, but she'd know if he left Jecifer alone as well. When she didn't speak again, he walked across the room and touched her shoulder. "That's not true, Beka. You know it's not true," he pleaded. "Beka, look at me. Please just look at me."

Finally, she turned, and his stomach dropped. His men hadn't told him everything. No doubt they feared his reaction. Her lip had been split, and her right eye was swollen shut. A leftie with a ring had caught her just a hairsbreadth from her temple. Jecifer. A little further up and he could have killed her with one blow. He'd killed like that before.

Rosto reached gentle fingers out to touch her face. "Beka," he breathed out slowly. "You need a healer."

Beka shook her head. "It's just a bruise. I'm fine," she said quietly. "You should leave, Rosto. It'd be better if you just left."

He could feel the hurt in her words, and that was worse than the anger he'd expected. She was ending things before they even started, and he felt a tear hit his thumb. He moved it gently across her swollen lip, rage boiling in him at the thought that one of his people had hurt her so. "I'm not going anywhere, Beka," he said firmly. "I'm not a rusher like him. You know that. You do."

She continued to stare at her feet, but she didn't deny it. "Is Tunstall going to be okay?"

"Yes," Beka said. "It was close though. I thought—I really thought he was dead. He went down so hard, and he wasn't moving."

At her words, he pulled her against his chest, stroking her back soothingly. She didn't put her arms around him, but she didn't push him away either.

"I should have dealt with him a long time ago. I'm so sorry. I knew better. I knew that his temper would end badly. I'm so, so sorry," he whispered.

Beka pulled back and wiped her tears away. "You're a rat and I'm a dog. That's life. There's no sense crying over it. It is what it is," she said, her voice stern, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as him.

"You're wrong, Beka. We need each other, and you know it. And I don't mean that I want to bed you, nice as that might be. I mean that we're two sides of the same coin you and I. Call it rat and dog if you want, but we're still connected. And we need each other to find the balance. We're no good without the other, and you cursed well know it."

She searched his face for several long moments, and he prayed that her internal debate went his way. Finally, she said, "They've been saying you're a whipped Rat. That you like the dogs a little too much. They're quiet like, but there's been murmurs. Mess him up good for making trouble with dogs. Make it sound like its business, but leave him in place and punish him by keeping the ale away from him. It'll shut them up about me, and it'll keep him in check. He's perfectly fine sober. 'Tis only when he's drunk that his fist fly before his mind thinks. I'll not fault you for leaving him in his place."

He didn't say anything, stroking her bruise again gently and wishing he could just gut the man for what he did to her, but at the same time knowing she was right.

"I'm safe, Rosto," she finally said. "It wasn't as bad as it looks."

He laughed outright. "Not as bad as it looks? He nearly killed you."

"But he didn't, and I don't think he'll be having any children."

Rosto smiled. "Well, that's good news."

She grew serious again, the smile drifting off her face. She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. "I wish this weren't so hard."

He hugged her close for a moment. "It doesn't have to be hard, Beka. Have a little faith."

Beka straightened suddenly and stepped back, all business again. "Sorry old man, you going to have to lie your white-head down elsewhere tonight. Don't you come crying to me about nightmares neither. I need a good night's rest."

He smiled at her teasing tone, knowing she meant it as a signal that all was well. "Good night, Beka."

As he climbed through the window, she called out, "Rosto? Make sure when he wakes up the next morning his head hurts worse than mine will."

"Don't you worry none lass. I'll see to it," he replied, before slipping off into the night.

I'm totally supposed to be studying for finals right now, but I'd had this chapter half written for ever and then suddenly I realized how to end it. Let me know how you like it! Please?


	5. Chapter 5

"Rosto, what are you doing up there?"

"Sush," he hissed quickly, squinting down at the dark street below her to see if anyone had heard her.

She stared up at him a minute before disappearing inside the Dancing Dove. A few minutes passed and then he heard her rummaging around in his room, tapping her cursed baton along the ceiling. Sighing, he lifted the trap door next to him. When she appeared from below, he said, "I'd kill most for entering my room unasked."

"You've asked plenty of times," she retorted, climbing out and sitting down next to him.

When he didn't respond, she looked at him. "I don't even get a chuckle for that?" she asked.

"Long day," he said quietly.

"What happened?"

"You haven't heard?"

Becca shook her head.

Rosto sighed. "That idiot Jecifer punched a noble this time. He's in for a hanging, which means my gambling rings are a mess and the guard's will be looking to take down a few more token rats to appease the nobles. He deserved far worse than the noose, but whoever will follow behind won't. Two of my lower downs got in a tussle, and the boys have all divided up on either side of them and keep hitting each other rather than doin' their job. And I'm worried one of the idiots is going to kill one of the other one's. Aniki is sick and mad as a bear with a bur in its behind about it. Someone is selling some sort of powder to folk without my permission, and it's bad stuff and is killing those poor folk that smoke it. Don't even get me started on the shipment that came in today. I won't say what of because the only thing that'll make this day worse is you putting me in the pound. Also, it smells like the cold of Scanra to me, which means this winter it'll be cold enough that some of the people are going to freeze to death. I need to find some place for the little 'uns to sleep. And—"

She put a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, gently rubbing her thumb against the tense tendons on the side of his neck. He quieted instantly, turning to look at her and raising an eyebrow. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. He froze, his lips hovering against hers when she just barely pulled away.

"What was that for?" he finally asked.

She smiled. "You're a good Rogue. The best we've had in my lifetime."

She put a little pressure on his neck, kissing him again and moving closer. Slowly, he moved a hand up to cradle her face, scared of any sudden movement chasing her away. As the kiss deepened, he leaned back against the slant of the roof, pulling her on top of him until she straddled his thighs. He slid a hand under her tunic, trailing his fingertips down along her spine and drawing a soft moan out of her. They continued kissing almost gently, carefully exploring further the sensations that they'd only had glimmers of before until she pulled away and rubbed her nose briefly against the crook of his neck before settling her head down against his chest.

"It's nice up here," she murmured. "You feel like you're up out of it all, above the chaos of Corus."

He smiled and reached a hand out to carefully undo her braid and removed the spiked strap from it. Once her defense was gone, he ran his hand over her hair lazily. "I come up here a lot. When I need a rest. When I need to be alone." He paused for minute then added, "It's nicer up here with you."

As he held her, his thoughts drifted, and he began to wonder what she was thinking and how long it would be before she pulled away again. He kissed her temple and traced a small circle on the soft skin of her lower back, absorbing the peace before he broke it. "Beka, are you going to be telling me rushers are rushers and dogs are dogs again tomorrow?"

She kissed his neck so gently he hardly felt it, but she didn't answer.

"Beka?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Rosto. I don't know how we'd do this. Eventually there'll be a point where our jobs come between us. Then what?"

He took her chin between his fingers and held his gaze steady on hers. "I will always choose you. Always."

"That could get you killed one day," she said softly.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. I refuse not to be with you just because of a lot of things that _might _happen. I don't know what might happen. I do know what I want, and what I can have, what we can have, if you'll just take a leap of faith."

Beka cuddled in closer to him. "I wish I knew."

Rosto chuckled. "You do know, bloodhound. Trust those finely tuned instincts of yours. What are they telling you?"

Beka pulled back, and Rosto's stomach flipped at the way she looked at him. She studied him then smiled before she leaned forward and kissed him confidently on the lips, rocking her body against his. She deepened the kiss, pushing them quickly past the gentle softness of their kisses moments before. He kissed her back, matching her hunger, years of waiting boiling up inside of him, making him desperate. He slipped her clothes off as her nimble fingers undressed him as well.

Then, for a moment, she let go of all of the barriers she'd carefully erected between them, and he let go of the worries that dogged him as constantly as she dogged her prey. Meanwhile, down below, their unruly city continued to bustle along, oblivious to the actions of its protectors up on the roof of the Dancing Dove.

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Should I leave it here, or keep going? Review and let me know!

Zenobia readers: no I haven't abandoned you, but am having motivational issues with that story, so review her story too please and give me a reason to keep writing!


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